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The Noblest Kind of Gardening for Boys

There is one kind of gardening the results of which will afford a higher satisfaction to boys, when they become men, than any other pastime or exercise they can possibly engage in, and that is the planting of fine handy trees. These will not require much attention, or any beyond the planting. They will grow freely and vigorously when you are at school or asleep, soon find their own supply of moisture by striking their roots deeply into the ground, and are able to withstand our cold and cloudy climate at all seasons. Nearly all intelligent and educated men are admirers of fine trees. Many who care nothing about our ordinary low-lying plants, take the highest interest in fine hardy trees--the late Prince Consort and the present Emperor of the French, for instance. Generally we display this interest in trees by planting them extensively when we come to be men; but how much would many lovers of trees not give to have commenced their tree-planting at an early age, so that they might walk under giant groves of their own planting! The Indian says, "He has not lived in vain who has planted a tree;" and certainly it is a noble thing to embellish the earth with its finest ornaments, and plant tiny shoots that will in time become great trees, and shed leaves over the graves of our children for ages. And it is well to observe in the beginning, that a tree of thoroughly hardy and vigorous disposition is one of the most lasting things on earth. Though a living thing, susceptible, like ourselves, of almost every change of atmosphere, cold or heat, it often survives great monuments of stone, and may live and see extinguished not only many generations of men but even the lives of nations.

The age of many trees has been computed upon fair proof to be greater than that of the Pyramids of Egypt. There are trees in America which were of colossal development ere that country was discovered, so that the growth of a mighty nation may require but little time compared to that witnessed by the giant Wellingtonia, whose bark you may have seen at the Crystal Palace. In our own country the age of many oaks and yews is proverbial. But apart altogether from the mighty age which our finest trees attain, let us venerate them for their beauty, dignity, and utility. What so full of life and change, so inexhaustive in their well-built and subtle ramifications, as the branches and branchlets of a fine tree! "The pillars of the valleys, the fringes of the hills," as an eloquent writer calls them, "so stately, so eternal" are, while the most useful of all things to man, at the same time the most beautiful natural objects which he can contemplate. Nothing adds so much to the beauty of park, pleasure ground, or garden, as the planting of handsome and suitable trees: in fact, they are the only true and pleasing ornaments of such. What constitutes the difference between the aspect of naked, blast-swept, and desolate-looking heaths, or lowland--monotonous ground of any kind, in fact--and one of those grand parks of old England, say Goodwood, or Richmond, or indeed any pleasure ground such as you may see in almost every parish, with every shady ferny corner, or lane opening, or tree-fringed sloping grass mound, a picture of fresh and changeful loveliness? Why, simply the presence of trees. With them you may impart every charm to the wildest heath or flattest prairie--with them the highest and grandest beauty may be imparted to the charmingly undulated surface of a great part of the British Isles. So much for the trees and their attractions. What is next to be done? It is to be hoped that every boy fond of gardening has already made up his mind to plant a tree, or several. We have seen a great many little boys' gardens, but it was the fate of most of them to become disused and neglected, dug up or forgotten, when the little gardeners had arrived at the "big boy," or manhood stage. The inmates being small and fleeting, of course every trace soon departed. But by adopting the kind of gardening here recommended, a pleasing and stately souvenir of pleasant early days will be the result. It must not, however, be attempted in the ordinary little boy's garden, which is usually a small patch under a wall, or in some obscure spot totally unfit for trees. If you once make up your mind to plant a tree, the first thing to do is to choose a good position for it. It should be one in which it will grow well, and in which the tree will not be in the way of anything else. This will save it from being disturbed after it gets to some size, and your hopes from being disappointed in a way you least expected. And lastly, it will be very desirable to so place the tree that its effect when grown up may be a good and beautiful one. It is, for instance, very bad management to plant the noble Wellingtonia, or Cedar of Lebanon, near a house. This is very often done in suburban and villa gardens, but if the trees attain their natural size they spoil the house, or must be cut down. The finest cedar of Lebanon we know of is planted within twenty feet of a house, and completely overshadows it; yet so noble is the tree that the owner would not touch it on any account: he would give a great deal, however, to have it in a proper position. The planting of a large kind of tree where it may, when grown up, stop a pleasant view, is also a great mistake.

From these instances it will be seen that the position is a subject of the highest importance in tree-planting. Now, as of course every boy cannot be a judge of tree-planting, it will be found the best plan to consult papa or the gardener about it. They will be so well pleased at the idea of your planting a tree instead of a geranium or a wallflower, that you are sure to be encouraged with advice and assistance. To plant it in the ordinary boys' garden would be a great mistake. It should be at once put in a position in which it might flourish undisturbed for ages. Generally, hardy trees are not fastidious as to soil. Mere planting is all the noble hardy ash, the graceful birch--the lady of the woods--the spreading beech, and others of our native trees require. But when we come to plant the grandest of all trees--the Wellingtonia and the Cedar of Lebanon, with many of the nobler pines of North America--if the soil be not naturally very good, we must make a preparation for the young plant. This is to be done by digging out a hole and taking the bad soil out at the bottom, leaving the top spit at one side, and then filling in the opening, say six feet wide or so, with good soil taken from a pasture and chopped up with a spade. This should be raised above the surface to allow for subsequent sinking, and also to keep the neck of the young tree a little above the leyel ground. The part meant by the neck, is the base of the stem, or, in other words, the part where root begins and stem terminates. As most gardens or pleasure grounds are well drained, the little planter is not likely to have much to contend with on that score, but where the bottom or lower soil is of a disagreeable nature, gardeners very often place a quantity of broken bricks or rough stones in the bottom of the hole, and over them place turf to prevent the top soil from falling down. The best time for planting is in the autumn--say September, October, or November; but any time through the autumn, winter, or early spring will do, provided the ground be not saturated with rain, and all other circumstances be favourable. The choosing of a good young tree is an important point. Do not have anything to do with those grown in pots; the roots of such are usually contolted round the ball, and in a very bad condition to make good trees. Nice symmetrical plants growing in a nursery, say at about from two to four feet high, are the best. The price of even the best of such will not amount to more than that of an ordinary toy, while in the case of the common native trees, and such things as the willows, that grow freely from a sucker, it is a mere trifle. Indeed, in the case of boys who live where there is anything like an extensive garden or grounds, most probably good young trees will be at hand ready to plant. It will be well to have the assistance of the gardener in planting a rare thing like the Wellingtonia, though after a little practice an intelligent boy can do it easily. The main points are, to place the roots of the tree on soil made pretty firm, to spread the roots out carefully before covering them, and finally, if the weather or soil should happen to be very dry, to give the ground a thorough soaking of water. This will refresh the little root fibres, make them "take kindly to the earth," and, in short, put the little tree in a fair way for its long life. And as boys may frequently have occasion to water their gardens, as well as other people, we may assure them that one thorough good watering is better than a dozen bad ones. A bad watering is one in which the surface of the soil is merely wetted, and if you poke down a little way you find the soil quite dry: a good watering is one in which the water descends deep and far into the soil, as deep or deeper than the roots go, in fact. The dragging about of water in pots is a very laborious and awkward affair. If the little gardener can secure the loan of the water-barrel on wheels, and have it filled quite full, and the contents gently supplied to the root of his tree, he will save himself much trouble, and probably have no further attention to pay to it in that way during the course of his life. By the way, have you ever heard the little story about the famous Jean Jacques Rousseau and his little tree? If not, here it is. When he was a little pupil about ten years of age, his master planted a walnut-tree to give a grateful shade to a place immediately outside the house. The planting of this walnut-tree was attended with some ceremony, little Rousseau and his friend, a fellow-boarder, acting as godfathers, singing songs of triumph around it. The master and his assistants formed a king of basin around the tree, or, in other words, made a little embankment of earth around it, so that the water could not escape. Jean Jacques and his companion saw and were much interested in all this, made up their minds that it was a nobler thing to plant trees than to plant colours on a breach, and at once became very anxious to plant. This they soon did by cutting a slip of willow, and planting it with due ceremony on the terrace near the august walnut-tree that had been planted by the master. They made a basin of earth round it in imitation of the bigger one, and then came their grand difficulty--how to water it. They were not permitted to fetch any, or they would have gladly done so, though it was at a distance. The tree was safe for a short time from some cause or other, and began to put forth a few leaves, which they hoped would in due time afford them shelter and shade; but hot days came, and it was apparent that unless the little tree had water it would surely die. What was to be done? Well, it is pretty evident that either of them could think a little, even at that age, for the little rogues made up their minds to make a tiny grass-covered canal between the large basin and their little one, so that when the master came to water his big tree, the water might run from his basin to theirs! Their first essay failed; the earth fell in, and they were miserable for a moment, but soon set to work again. This time they cut an old box into narrow planks, and lined the furrow with them, made the slope so that the water would be sure to run as desired, and covered the trench over so that nobody could see it, putting a grating of twigs over the upper end, so as to hide appearances and keep out rubbish, and waited in hope and fear for the result. The master and his men came and poured in the water, which soon ran through the furrow to the little tree. This was too much for our otherwise sagacious little gardeners. They roared with delight at the success of their plan, and betrayed it to the master, who immediately sent for a pick-axe, and cut up their little trench, shouting at the same time, "An aqueduct! an aqueduct!" They were of course sorry, but soon took heart, and planted another tree, which lived to be a big one. To have set this slip in competition with a large one, Rousseau tells, gave him a degree of glory he had not known before, and says that he had a juster idea of it at that age than Caesar had at thirty.